The Architect

"Did you know, Bill, that according to my investigators, your wife does not have a room reservation at the convention hotel? Not under her name or the name of her company. I think she intends to share my husband's room."

Beverly looked at her watch. "Their airplane should be landing about now. I'm not expecting a call from my husband until he gets to the hotel. Perhaps, your wife is going to call you too."

Bill responded, "Yes, she said she would call when she lands and again, later in the day, after she has checked into her room."

Bill had been feeling a knot form in his stomach and it was getting bigger and tighter.

"Tell me what is going on, Beverly," he commanded.

"You deserve to know everything," Beverly responded.

"I have suspected for some time now that your wife and my husband intended to spend their alone time at the hotel having sex. I wanted to catch him, them, red-handed, on video. Several days ago, I rented a suite at their hotel in the name of my company. Yesterday and this morning, my investigators, placed numerous video cameras and recording devices throughout the rooms. The cameras are connected to a server that broadcasts the events to me live through my computer and to a similar computer set up in my lawyer's office. Everything will be recorded."

Bill inquired, "What keeps anybody else from seeing the images?"

"A password is needed to access the website. My lawyer and I are the only ones that have that password," Beverly answered.

Bill's phone rang. The ring tone told him it was Joan.

"Just got here," Joan's cheery voice said as soon as he answered.

"How was the flight?" Bill asked.

"It was easy, I decided to treat myself and went first class. I had a nice lunch and even had time for a short nap. Of course, the company will pay for all this just as it is paying to the conference and the hotel room."

Bill completed the thought. "And you can write it off of your taxes as a business expense, right?"

"That's right, Sweetheart," she said. Next year, you will have to come with me and we will make a vacation out of it. Atlanta is a great place for tourists."

"And lovers," Bill said without even thinking about it.

Beverly looked up quickly and shook her head as if to tell Bill not to hint at his suspicions.

"It's a date, then," Bill added quickly. "We'll make it a vacation of it even if you have to schmooze with your real estate friends during the day. At night, all I will want to see is you in your bright red negligee."

Joan came back with, "My luggage is here, gotta go. I'll call you this evening from the hotel. It might be early in the evening because there is a cocktail social scheduled in the convention hall at 7pm."

"Okay, Babe," Bill signed off. "I love you. Don't ever forget that."

"I love you too. Bye for now."

Bill turned to Beverly. "I still can't believe that she would do this to me, to us, our family."

"I didn't want to believe it either," Beverly said. "All the little clues ate at me like acid. Now, after all these months, I have to find out for certain."

Beverly typed a few characters into her computer. "There it is," she exclaimed.

Her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, noted to Bill that it was her investigator, Paul Drake, and answered the phone. "I can see everything," she said.

Then, again, Bill heard only Beverly's side of the conversation. "Yes, the picture is very clear, . . . How do I toggle between rooms? . . . What about audio? . . . Okay, I'll turn up the volume."

Then, Bill heard a voice over the computer. "How do you hear me?"

Beverly answered, "Clear as a bell."

The voice went on, "I'm going to walk from room to room in the suite and I want you to follow me by toggling between cameras. I'll talk as I move around. Testing, one, two three, . . . testing, one two, three.

"It all works," Beverly judged.

The voice of her investigator continued. "I know they have landed. We are going to straighten up the room now and clear out. We'll be in the lobby when they arrive and I'll text you about what we see and photograph."

"Thanks, Paul. I'll be expecting your calls."

Beverly turned to Bill and said, "I have to make one more call, to my lawyer."

Beverly pushed speed dial on her phone and her lawyer answered immediately. "Are you online? . . . Good, you can see and hear everything then? . . . And it's all being recorded, right"

When Beverly hung up, she took another large gulp of wine, emptying her glass. She poured another glass for herself. Then, she turned her attention back to Bill.

"I know it has been intrusive of me to sandbag you like this. Even if you believed me, I don't necessarily know that you would want to see it live."

Bill had been getting more morose as time went on. He told Beverly that he was going to have to get something stronger to drink if he wanted to deal with this. He started for the kitchen and then turned and asked Beverly if she wanted something stronger too. Beverly was content with the bottle of wine. Bill returned from the kitchen with a bottle of bourbon and a shot glass.

While they waited, Beverly attempted conversation on a lighter note. "My investigators have told me that you have a daughter and a son. Is that right."

"Yes, I do. My daughter is Joyce. She is actually my adopted daughter. She was a year old when I met Joan. Right now, she is in her second year of college at the university. Although it isn't far away, we decided to rent a small apartment for her that she shares with friends. She is into sports, the arts and a lot of other activities but manages to get home on weekends when she can.

"And your boy?" Questioned Beverly, anxious to keep the conversation going.

"His name is Richard but everybody calls him Ritchie. He was born two years after Joan and I were married. He is now a senior in high school. He is also into sports. In fact, he is away this weekend for a soccer game. He will be home on Saturday afternoon."

Bill thought for a moment and then added, "It's probably best that they are both away this weekend."

There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation until Bill questioned Beverly. "What is your story? Who is the husband who has been shacking up with my wife?"

Beverly sighed and then started her story.

"The DuMont Furniture Rental and Staging Company was started by my parents over thirty years ago. I worked for them until they retired and then I took over control. When they passed away, the business was left to me. The company has been moderately successful and as it grew, I realized I needed more help, especially in marketing our services.

"I met Lenard, Lenny, about seven years ago. Although he was five years younger than me, we hit it off right away. Lenny is very charismatic and very glib. He is a natural born salesman. After we were married, he took over marketing. That included advertising, sales, customer service. He set up our company website. The nature of the job meant that Lenny was out a lot. He made a regular circuit of all the real estate offices within a hundred-mile radius that needed staging as well as companies setting up offices that needed office furniture. Lenny recruited a lot of customers. He earned his pay.

"I now suspect that he was playing around even before he met your wife. But, for some reason, he has become especially enamored with her. I think this is the longest affair he has had."

Beverly continued, "Even though Joan may be ten years older than my husband, she is still a very beautiful woman. And, like my husband, she is a natural salesperson too. I guess, together, they sold each other a bill of goods on what attractive people they were."

Bill and Beverly sat in silence for a while. Finally, the uneasy quiet was broken with a text to Beverly's phone. "They've entered the hotel," is all the text said but it was accompanied with a photo of Beverly's husband and Bill's wife holding hands at the registration desk.

"They're on their way up," was what the next text read.

Bill, who hadn't looked at Beverly's computer screen yet, got up from his chair, with his bottle of bourbon and his glass, and sat down on the sofa next to Beverly. She wrapped her arms around herself in preparation of what she was afraid she was going to see.

The audio was sensitive enough that they heard the keycard being inserted into the lock on the door. It opened quickly and Lenny quickly dropped their luggage on the floor. Even before the door closed, Lenny had Joan turned around to face him and gave her a hard, lust-filled kiss. Joan responded in kind.

"No more waiting, Baby," Lenny said. "Not one more minute."

With that pronouncement, the two lovers started to strip and help each other to strip. When down to just their underwear, Lenny picked Joan up, carried her into the bedroom and threw her in the middle of the bed. He then took his shorts off and was completely naked -- and hard. He jumped on the bed next to Joan and unhook her bra. Joan laid on her back and helped Lenny slide her panties off.

"Fuck me, Lover," was all that Joan said

Without any more ceremony, the two adulterers fucked each other, ... while Bill and Beverly watched.

Beverly was no longer a woman in control of her feelings. She cried. "How could he?" she asked nobody. "I loved him so much."

Bill encircled Beverly with his arms and pulled her close. He was equally broken up by what he had just witnessed. He had tears streaming down his face too.

The lovers climaxed together after only a few minutes. "I needed that," Joan said.

"Let me rest a few minutes, Baby, and we can do it again.

"Get some rest, Stud," Joan replied, "I have to call home."

Bill watched his wife sit up on the side of the bed with nothing around her but bed sheets. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. A few seconds later, Bill's phone rang. He didn't know whether or not he should -- could -- answer it.

He answered it while, at the same time, watching Beverly's computer screen

"Hi, Sweetheart. All checked in. I'm going to take a nap before I go downstairs to the social. Just wanted you to know that I love you."

Bill was watching the screen as Lenny sat up in bed behind Joan and started kissing her neck and shoulders.

Bill couldn't take anymore and just said, "Goodbye, see you Sunday afternoon." Then, he hung up.

On the screen, Bill could see that Joan reacted like it was an abrupt ending to their call but shrugged it off.

"Ready to go again?" Lenny asked.

"Do you need some oral encouragement," responded Joan.

"It always helps," Lenny replied.

At that point, Joan pushed Lenny onto his back and proceeded to kiss him from the lips, down the chest to his semi-rigid cock. That was followed by a prolonged blowjob that almost brought Lenny to a climax. Instead, Joan straddled Lenny and impaled herself on his impressive cock.

Bill couldn't watch anymore. He didn't think Beverly could either. They were both still crying.

Bill tried to divert his and Beverly's attention from the events in the hotel room by suggesting that, perhaps, she would like to see his architectural office in the basement. Beverly readily agreed. He led her downstairs to his offices. Bill brought his bottle of bourbon with him and Beverly brought her wine. He showed her his CAD (computer-aided design) system, his modeling desk and his customer lounge. Beverly was impressed with the many drawing and pictures on the wall of homes Bill had designed. Eventually, they made their way to the small outdoor patio of the walkout basement.

Bill and Beverly talked about their plans. Both opined that divorce was the only option although Bill wasn't quite as certain. Beverly was in good shape financially. She was the sole owner of her company. Essentially, Lenny was an employee. As valuable as he was in marketing to the DuMont company over the last few years, he was expendable.

Over the next few hours, Bill and Beverly tried to do things that distracted them from the computer. Besides, there was nothing going on while the two adulterers were at their social hour. Bill volunteered to make sandwiches and Beverly heated some soup. They passed the time with the events at the hotel pushed to the back of their mind.

At about 10:30pm, Bill and Beverly heard voices on the computer and they settled together on the sofa with their drinks. The adulterers had returned to their hotel room. Although Joan couldn't keep her hands off of Lenny, he put her off saying he had to call his wife.

Beverly's phone rang. "Hello, Baby," she said.

"Hi Doll," Lenny replied. "I'm all checked in. It's a great room. It's a suite. It has a lounge area, a bar, a microwave oven and a refrigerator. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Honey. I thought you could use the extra room to schmooze customers while you are razzle-dazzling them with our company capability. It's all be written off to marketing.

While Lenny is on the phone, Joan is seen unbuckling his pants. Soon, she had his pants and underwear at his feet and was on her knees giving him an enthusiastic blowjob.

Lenny's attention is divided and he can hardly concentrate on his phone call. He needed to end it.

"I'm pretty tired, Baby. I'll call you tomorrow. I love you."

Beverly replied while gritting her teeth, "You don't know how much I loved you too." The verb tense change did not register with Lenny based on what Bill and Beverly were watching as Lenny put his phone down and enjoyed the sensations of his lover.

They watched their spouses for a few minutes more. Joan asked Lenny, "How long have you been playing around on your wife?"

Lenny responded, "Ever since we were married. I love women. They are like flowers just waiting to be picked. Married women are especially attractive because they usually don't want a permanent relationship and often tell me they still love their husbands.

"What about you?"

Joan replied, "I love my husband to death. He saved me and my daughter from a life of poverty. We have a wonderful son together. Bill has saved enough to send both of them to college. He sent me to real estate school. We have a very nice home and lots of friends. We have a great life together."

"Then why this?" Lenny inquired.

"I learned some time ago," Joan continued, "that sex sells. When I was first a real estate agent, I was propositioned by a wealthy homebuyer. He said he would buy this house from me at the listed price if I would sleep with him. He was a nice-looking man and very polite toward me. I reluctantly agreed to do it. He took me to his hotel room and we had sex. And I liked it. And I made a huge commission. Officially, I guess, that makes me a whore. Nevertheless, after that incident, I decided that if I needed to use sex to sell a home, I would. It wasn't often, maybe a couple of times a year, but I did what was necessary to make a sale. Bill was actually very happy for me and told me it was my personality that made me a great real estate agent. He was partially right.

"You are actually the first man I have had a continuing affair with. All I can say is that I like the way you bed me. However, I don't expect our relationship to go on forever. We will tire of each other as time goes on until we just stop. Then, you will just be a secret, pleasant memory."

"I have to go home before I am too drunk to drive," announced Beverly. She pulled a pen a notepad out of her backpack and wrote something down. "If you want to watch this calamity on your own computer, here is the website address and the password."

She turned off her computer, closed the lid and put it in her backpack. "I will be back here on Sunday morning after they leave the hotel to give you the DVDs that my lawyer has been recording. Let me know what your intentions are. I intend to confront my husband right away."

Bill escorted Beverly out to her car. As he opened the door for her, she turned to him and gave him a big hug that lasted for several minutes. Actually, they hugged each other. Then she drove away.

When Bill returned to the house, he went to his office and unplugged the laptop that was hooked up to his monitor, printer and other peripherals. He brought it into the family room and put it on the coffee table and plugged it in. Then, after turning it on, he typed in the address of the website and the password. He didn't see his wife in the first image of the hotel room and toggled once or twice until there was a picture of the bed. It was night and the lights were off but the low-light capability of the video camera easily showed that his wife was in bed with Beverly's husband, Lenny.

For the first time, Bill was able to analyze his feelings. He was hurt, so hurt. How could Joan possibly do this to him, to them, to their marriage. And he was humiliated. Apparently, another man was much more attractive to his wife than he was. Not only that, but Joan had admitted that she had had sex with other men in order to sell houses. That admission, in itself, pushed him to believe that divorce was the only answer.

Bill thought their sex life was comfortable. Certainly, it wasn't the lust-filled couplings that they experienced during their first years of married life. But most married people know that the intensity of sex will diminish as the years go by. And the lust for outside sex is the price you pay for a happy marriage. Apparently, Joan did not agree.

And then Bill became angry. How could she possibly do this to him, to the family he loved, to the kids, to the marriage. He felt that he could not excuse Joan's activities. There was to recourse but divorce. He would not be a knowing cuckold. His pride and sense of self-worth would not allow him to be married to a woman who would show him such lack of respect.

Bill continued to drink -- too much. He became drowsy. The last thing he remembered was at about 11pm at night when Lenny woke Joan from a deep sleep to fuck her on her side.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

A taxicab pulled to a stop in front of the Reardon home. It might have parked in the driveway except Joan's Reardon's car was parked there.

Joan Reardon exited the taxi at the same time as the trunk of the taxi popped open. As she looked around, she noticed her daughter, Joyce, sitting on the steps of the covered porch. She called to her daughter, "Can you give me some help with my luggage, please?"

Joan turned to pick up her luggage that the driver has set on the curb. She was going to leave one bag for Joyce but when she looked for her, she was still on the porch steps -- she hadn't moved.

It was with some difficulty that Joan dragged her suitcase over the lawn while having one carryon bag slung over her shoulder and the briefcase in one hand.

Joyce watched her without expression.

When Joan finally reached the cement walkway in front of the porch planters, she through everything down. She was obviously angry. "You could have helped me, you know!"

Joyce didn't react or say anything.

"What are you doing home anyway? I thought you were at school?

Joyce answered, "I came home Saturday morning when I learned that you were going away to your conference. I wanted to spend some one-on-one time with Daddy."

"And where the fuck is your father! He knew what flight I was arriving on. I waited for him for more than an hour. I must have called him ten times with no answer. Everything went to voicemail. What the fuck is he doing that is more important than picking me up on time?"

Joyce spoke up for the first time, "Daddy is with Ritchie at Lake Ann Park."

Joan raged on, "Why the fuck is he there and not at the airport!"

"They're having a few beers together, relaxing and bonding," Joyce replied

"I don't know what's gotten into him but I'm going to give him Hell when he gets home."

Joan climbed the porch steps and approached the front door. When she tried to open it, she found that it was locked. "Damn it!" she cursed and fumbled through her purse to find her keys.